Foreigner's I Want To Know What Love Is: The Meaning Behind The Song | Louder

About the Song

Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is” is a power ballad that has been a staple of classic rock radio since its release in 1984. The song was written by Mick Jones and Lou Gramm, and it features a soaring melody, powerful vocals, and a memorable guitar riff.

The song’s lyrics are about the search for true love. The narrator has experienced heartbreak and pain in the past, but he is still hopeful that he will one day find love. He sings, “I’ve traveled so far to change this lonely life / I want to know what love is.”

“I Want to Know What Love Is” was a commercial success, reaching number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the United States. It has also been certified platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The song has been covered by many artists, including Michael Bolton, Tina Turner, and Whitney Houston.

The song’s enduring popularity is a testament to its universal message of hope and love. It is a song that has resonated with listeners of all ages for generations.

In addition to its commercial success, “I Want to Know What Love Is” has also been praised by critics. The song was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocal in 1985. It has also been included on several lists of the greatest rock songs of all time.

“I Want to Know What Love Is” is a powerful and moving song that has had a lasting impact on popular culture. It is a song that continues to inspire and uplift listeners around the world.

Here are some additional details about the song:

  • The song was originally released as the lead single from Foreigner’s fifth album, Agent Provocateur.
  • The song was produced by Mick Jones and Keith Olsen.
  • The song’s music video features the band performing the song in a variety of locations, including a church, a forest, and a mountaintop.
  • The song has been used in several films and television shows, including “The Wedding Singer”, “The Big Lebowski”, and “Scrubs”.

Artist of the Week: Foreigner – BlackLight Radio

Video

Lyrics: I Want To Know What Love Is

I gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I’m olderNow this mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
Through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colderIn my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far
To change this lonely lifeI wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show meI’m gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I’ve got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found meIn my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
I can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
And I wanna feel, I want to feel what love is
And I know, I know you can show me

Let’s talk about love
I wanna know what love is, the love that you feel inside
I want you to show me, and I’m feeling so much love
I wanna feel what love is, no, you just cannot hide
I know you can show me, yeah

I wanna know what love is, let’s talk about love
I want you to show me, I wanna feel it too
I wanna feel what love is, I want to feel it too
And I know and I know, I know you can show me
Show me love is real, yeah
I wanna know what love is…

 

You Missed

Thousands of fans filled the Nashville arena, restless after waiting two years to see Loretta Lynn again. She sat in the shadows beside the stage, weakened by the stroke that had taken her mobility in 2017 and the broken hip she suffered the following year. When the house band started the familiar rhythm of ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter,’ the room seemed to hold its breath. Her sister, Crystal Gayle, leaned over and encouraged her to sing. Loretta waved her off at first, looking down, apparently content to stay quietly in the wings. Then something changed. As the crowd pressed forward, humming the song that told her own story, their response seemed to reach her through the exhaustion. She reached out suddenly and firmly, closing her hand around the microphone’s cool metal. ‘Let me have that damn mic,’ she muttered. Her voice carried through the sound system with unmistakable authority. She was taking back the place she had held for more than fifty years, brushing aside every doctor and therapist who had told her to slow down. The crowd’s roar hit the stage and seemed to shake the rafters. For a moment, the frailty of the past two years faded from view. The audience saw the Kentucky girl who had lived through hardship and made music out of it. Loretta leaned into the song, her voice cracking a little but still carrying the grit that had defined her career. As the last note lingered, everyone in the room understood: she was giving them more than a performance. She was reminding them who was still in charge.

RCA’s doors stayed closed to Dottie West, enough to shake any performer’s confidence in Nashville. Her stints with Starday and Atlantic had left her with little beyond empty pockets and unpaid bills. By 1961, she and her husband, steel guitarist Bill West, were living in a small house in West Nashville. It felt less like a home than a place to make one last, desperate attempt. For years, they had driven back and forth from Cleveland, spending time and money on trips that brought them no closer to getting through the industry’s doors. At that house, Dottie began taking a different approach. Instead of chasing executives, she fed hungry songwriters. Willie Nelson, Roger Miller, and Red Lane started coming over, finding something at her kitchen table that the labels hadn’t offered: someone willing to listen. Auditions gave way to suppers, with Dottie hearing unfinished verses as her guests unpacked their battered guitar cases. If she couldn’t get into the business, she would bring it into her home. Each meal was a deliberate investment in the songwriting Nashville claimed to value but had yet to recognize in her. Things changed the night Jim Reeves heard her song, ‘Is This Me?’ and took it to Chet Atkins. One straightforward exchange over a melody opened a path that had been blocked for years. It wasn’t simply a lucky break. It grew out of her decision to stop asking for a place and create one herself. When she became the first woman to win a country Grammy, the award meant more than recognition. It confirmed that those lean years in the West Nashville house had produced some of the most important work of her life.

Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.